"All warfare is based on deception."
Luke had read the line long before he ever entered the System, long before he ever became Michael Corleone. Back then it was philosophy—something clever, something distant.
Now it was instruction.
The Art of War was written more than two thousand years ago, during an age when kingdoms rose and fell not by the size of their armies, but by the intelligence of their generals. Composed in the 5th century BC and attributed to Sun Tzu, the manual was deceptively thin—its power lay not in complexity, but in clarity.
It taught one central truth:
Victory is decided before the battle begins.
Over centuries, its principles escaped the battlefield. Merchants used it in trade. Lawyers used it in court. Politicians used it in negotiation. And men like Luke—men forced to fight without swords—used it to survive.
Michael Corleone, lying still while the world conspired around him, was now fighting the most ancient kind of war.
A war of expectation.
The cabal expected anger.
They expected lawsuits, press conferences, frantic damage control, perhaps even violence—a desperate American trying to protect his billions.
Luke gave them none of it.
He did exactly what they wanted him not to do.
Nothing.
No challenge to Immobiliare.
No inquiries to the Vatican Bank.
No calls to Lucchesi.
No protests.
Michael appeared weak.
Confused.
Retreating.
To the cabal, this confirmed their theory: The American is naive.
Behind closed doors, Luke studied.
Every document the Shadows obtained. Every transfer route. Every historical precedent of European banking collapses and Vatican scandals. He mapped not just the structure of the trap, but the psychology behind it.
The enemy wanted reaction.
So Luke prepared absence.
Sun Tzu wrote:
"If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him."
The cabal was not choleric—but it was arrogant.
They believed time was on their side.
Luke made time his weapon.
Quietly, without changing a single public position, Michael authorized something no one expected:
A delay.
Not a withdrawal.
Not an objection.
A procedural delay, executed through neutral intermediaries—accountants, clerks, auditors whose names meant nothing to history.
Immobiliare's funds did not move when expected.
Vatican transfers slowed.
The Swiss found themselves waiting.
Confusion crept in.
The cabal adjusted.
They pressed harder.
Luke still did not respond.
Sun Tzu again:
"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."
Michael Corleone appeared old, injured, disengaged.
But Luke was assembling something invisible.
A ledger war.
A timing war.
A reputational ambush.
Instead of defending his money, Luke prepared to expose theirs.
Instead of accusing the Vatican, he prepared evidence that would make the Vatican accuse itself.
Instead of blocking the scandal, he began arranging who would survive it—and who would not.
This was the enemy's blind spot.
They expected resistance.
They did not expect alignment.
Because Luke's final move would not be to stop the collapse.
It would be to decide where it fell.
And when the world asked who caused it—
The answer would not be Michael Corleone.
It would be men who believed ancient power made them untouchable.
Sun Tzu's final lesson echoed in Luke's mind as the pieces slid into place:
"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
The cabal thought the battle had not yet begun.
In truth—
They were already losing.